


Movie Night

by Strength_in_pain



Series: John and his boys [8]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angry Sam Winchester, Crying Dean Winchester, Dean’s Bare feet, Gen, John Winchester Tries, John Winchester scolding, John Winchester was a little harsh, Kid Winchesters, Parental Spanking, Protective Sam Winchester, Sad Dean Winchester, Weechesters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-23
Updated: 2018-09-27
Packaged: 2019-07-16 04:16:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16078223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Strength_in_pain/pseuds/Strength_in_pain
Summary: Sam shrugged. He then turned his eyes to Dean and quietly asked him “Do you wanna watch anything sp’ific?”Dean’s only response was another wave of tears flowing down his face and some loud hiccuping sobs which he desperately tried to suppress. John cringed inwardly. Perhaps he was a little too harsh on his eldest.Or John and his kids watch a movie after John punished Dean.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So I had a request from Maya Loves Dean and she said “I don’t know if your taking requests but could you write another one just like this, but with Dean all hurt and scared of John. Plz.” 
> 
> So this is what I did. I’m sorry if it sucks. I’m always afraid to write requests because I feel like I won’t do the prompt justice.

> **Movie night.**
> 
> **Athens, Georgia. 1987 Pastor Jim’s vacation house.**
> 
> Dean 8, Sam 4. 

 “What movie do you want to watch?” John Winchester asks. When he is given no response, he looks over his shoulder at his two boys. 

Dean is sat on the couch with his knees drawn up to his chest. His eyes are red and puffy; his cheeks still wet. Every few seconds the quiet room echos with the sound of Dean’s sniffling. Then the room falls silent again. 

Sam, on the other hand, was sitting next to his big brother, fixing his father a stare that could freeze the pacific. Sam’s narrow eyes bored into John’s as if he were scolding the man. John could almost hear the angry four-year-old now.  “You’re a big ‘meanie’ Daddy.” It surprised John, how defensive Sam could be over his big brother at this age. 

“I asked you two a question.” John said, more harshly than intended. 

Sam shrugged. He then turned his eyes to Dean and quietly asked him “Do you wanna watch anything sp’ific?” 

Dean’s only response was another wave of tears flowing down his face and some loud hiccuping sobs which he desperately tried to suppress. John cringed inwardly. Perhaps he was a little too harsh on his eldest. 

It wasn’t like Dean didn’t deserve to be punished because he did. He knew better than to disobey orders. But apparently the warning John gave Dean about throwing a loaded weapon wasn’t enough to stop him from doing it. Now John will admit, he and Dean were in a heated fight about respecting teachers. But that doesn’t excuse what Dean did. 

John had been unloading the impala when Dean grab a loaded pistol out of the trunk and chucked it clear across the yard, all while screaming about how his dad was being an unfair jerk face. 

Anger took over and John screamed back at his wayward son. “What the hell is wrong with you! Do you realize you just threw a loaded weapon? If that went off you could’ve gotten someone killed! What if Sam got hit?” 

As if on cue, Sam poked his head out of the backseat of the car. “Is everything all right?” 

He must have heard the gun shot. John snapped on his toddler, “everything’s fine! Did I tell you to get out of the car?” 

“No daddy.” Sam said. He jumped back in the car and shut the door. 

When John turned back to his oldest son, he noticed the hurt expression on the kid’s face. But John was too fired up to stop the words from coming out. “How many times have I told you to NEVER ever throw a weapon?” Dean slumped his shoulders. He looked smaller than an eight-year-old should.  

“I don’t care how mad you are. You don’t go breaking my rules to prove a point! Damnit Dean!” John slammed the trunk of the impala down. “I am so disappointed in you.” 

Dean’s lower lip quivered, but he remained stoic. He didn’t speak. After swallowing a nervous gulp, he went inside pastor Jim’s vacant vacation house.

John took a few moments to calm down. He helped Sam out of the car and into the house. After he made Sam dinner, Then he decided to deal with Dean. 

John winced at the memory. His eyes focusing back on his boys who were currently on the couch. Sam was watching helplessly as his brother cried into his sleeve. Poor Dean was trying so hard to keep it together; to maintain composure. Although, that was typically how Dean acted, John was still worried. He was a tough kid. He never likes to cry in front of people. Especially not his little brother. The very fact that he was crying at all made John worry. 

Sure Dean cries. He cries when he falls. He cries when he’s spanked. He even cries when he fights with Sam. But the tears only last a few minutes. 

It’s been over an hour since Dean was spanked and he’s still crying. Maybe John was too harsh? Did he use too much force? Was his baby still hurt?

 Or maybe it was what John said. Dean took John’s criticism to heart. He absolutely adores John’s praise. The kid practically beams with delight when John claps him on the back and tells him what a good job he’s doing. But any time John indicates that Dean has let him down the kid goes quiet for a while, sulking. 

“Can we watch Back to the Future?” Sam suggested. “Dean likes that movie.” 

John nodded. He dug in the duffle bag to find his few selections of VHS tapes. Popping in the movie, he sat back on the couch and turned off the lamp light. Dean and Sam scooted away from him as if he were a dangerous flame. 

Pretending not to care, John gulped past a lump in his throat. He watched the beginning of the movie in silence expect for the occasional sniffle from Dean. 

Soft glowing lights lit up the darkened room bringing a sense of comfort to John. He loved watching TV as a teen. Thoughts of Mary filled his mind as he thought about taking her to the movies for some of their early dates. It was hard to believe he lost her four years ago. It feels like yesterday he was kissing her goodnight. 

A muffled sob brought him out of his dark thoughts. Things would have turned ugly if he had time to dwell on those memories. John shifted his attention to Dean who had his bare feet out in front of him on the couch as he sat with his knees to his chest.

John shifted next to his son; his heart breaking when Dean flinched. Instinctively, Dean leaned in when he felt John’s hand lay in between his shoulder blades rubbing his back soothingly. 

“What’s wrong, Deano?” John whispered.  
  
Dean didn’t give him an answer, just sniffled softly and leaned into his Dad’s touch.  
  
“Dean.” John tried to level his voice out, not too stern and not too soft. Something that would make Dean listen to him but not upset him further. “Talk to me little munchkin, I’m worried about you.”  
  
Dean nodded, trying to take a deep breath to gather his thoughts. As he opened his mouth, all that came out was a dry sob and Dean’s hands immediately went to grip John’s shirt, burying his head in his Daddy’s lap. “Hurts,” he wailed.  
  
“Inside or outside?” John asked, the same thoughts he had earlier about his yelling came back. Stroking Dean’s hair, John waited patiently for the response. Sam was practically attached to Dean’s side which would make it difficult for John to hold the boy, so he settled for rubbing his back and stroking his hair.   
  
“Mostly Inside,” Dean muttered, fists clenching John’s already tear-soaked shirt. “And maybe some outside too.” John nodded, shushing the boy softly.

“I’m so sorry, Dean.” He whispered as he picked the boy up. Sam protested slightly by gripping Dean’s pant leg. The faded blue jeans tugged down enough to cover Dean’s bare feet. 

“Where are you going?” Sam demanded. 

“To the bedroom.” John mumbled, “we’ll be back to finish the movie. Do you want to pause it and take a bathroom break? Now’s the time.”

Dean mumbled something into John’s shirt along the lines of, “you should get us some snacks, Sammy.”

Sam’s face lit up when his brother spoke. That sounded like the Dean he knew! “Sure thing, Dean. I’ll get a whole bunch! Some chips and cookies and ice cream.”

“That sounds really good.” Dean said from John’s shoulder. Sam was off the couch with a sprint and in the kitchen raiding the fridge for sweets. 

John carefully set Dean down on one of the big queen size beds in Pastor Jim’s vacation house. “Ok Dean, we need to talk.” Dean shook his head. “I’m sorry I yelled at you.” John continued. “But you shouldn’t have thrown the gun. Why did you do that anyway?”

Dean shrugged, “you wouldn’t listen to me. I was mad.”

John nodded, “I was mad too. So you threw the gun out of anger and I said those things out of anger. We both messed up.” 

Dean agreed, “I am sorry. I deserved to be punished. I could’ve hurt you or Sammy.” His voice broke at the end. 

John couldn’t stand to see his boy so upset. Half of this was his fault. “It’s okay, Dean. It’s over with. No one got hurt. We need to let the past be in the past.” 

“So you don’t hate me?” Dean asked shyly. John’s eyes locked with Dean’s. Reaching out, he grabbed Dean’s shoulders. “Don’t you ever think that I hate you. There is nothing you could do that could make me hate you. Do you understand?” 

“Yes sir.” Dean whispered, a single tear dripping down his chin. 

“Stop with the crying, kid. You’re eyes are turning an unearthly shade of green. Hell, I thought eyes were supposed to get red when you cry, but yours just turn a brighter shade of green.” 

Dean snorted a laugh, “so do they look like Christmas colors?” 

John ruffled the short hair in front of him, and kissed Dean on the head. “There’s my boy.” When moving away from his Dad’s touch, Dean couldn’t help wince as his butt rubbed against the bed. “Oh yeah, we have one last thing to take care of.” John mumbled. He walked in the bathroom, ordering Dean to stay put. 

When John returned, he had a bowl of water, a washcloth, and a bottle of something. Dean felt the bed dip as his dad sat down. 

“Turn over.” John ordered. Never being one to question his Dad’s commands, Dean rolled on his stomach. He felt his father lower his jeans and briefs down just below his butt. 

John cleaned the chaffed skin with a warm rag, then added some baking soda powder to keep Dean’s skin dry. 

“Jeez Dad, I’m not a baby anymore.” Dean whined when he felt the powder going on his skin. 

“Do you want to feel better?” John asked nonchalant. Dean frowned. He rested his face in the crook of his elbow and waited for the humiliation to be over with. Finally, after John applied some Vaseline, he righted Dean’s clothes. 

“Feel any better?” John asked once Dean was on his feet. The kid nodded. He did feel better after talking.  “Now I feel weird. Like my butt’s wearing make-up or something.” 

John immediately scooped the small boy up and held him tightly. Dean's stomach rumbled loudly and the eight-year-old giggled.

"I think someone is hungry" teased John, ruffling Dean's hair with his free hand as he began making his way to the living room where the TV was. 

"Dad?” 

"Yes, Dean?"

"Tell Sam I’m ready for that chocolate ice cream.” 


	2. Oklahoma (John Fails)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So i’m posting this as another chapter even though it’s a continuation of my series. But it’s really similar to the pervious chapter. Also, I promise after this, there will be a happier story. Or at least, everyone will suffer, not just Dean. 
> 
> And if you don’t like corporal punishment don’t read this chapter. Some people have asked me to write more like this and some people don’t like it as much. So do what you feel comfortable with. 
> 
> Like I said, more happier stories in the future, which will then be followed by even more depressing stories. Good times :)

**Oklahoma April 5th.**

One-year-old Sammy Winchester was bouncing up and down on his Daddy’s lap, sucking on a pacifier. He was looking up in awe at the muscular man he called Daddy. His bright hazel-green eyes stared with curiosity as John, his father, pulled out his binki and dangled it in front of his face. Sammy clapped his little hands together in a poor attempt to grab the pacifier back. His father gave it back to him and he placed the object between his teeth. 

“You ready for dinner, baby?” John asked softly, kissing his baby’s cheek. 

Sammy gurgled something around his pacifier and John picked him up and carried the boy to the table. He put the baby on the floor and let him crawl around. Sam preferred to go a few inches away from John, before quickly retreating back to his Daddy’s feet. 

John was busy setting up Sammy’s car-seat on the cheap motel chair. He didn’t have enough money to pay for a high-chair so he used the car seat. Well, actually, he had enough money, but he preferred to use it on more important things such as ammunition. 

See, John Winchester is a new hunter of the supernatural. Last year,  his wife died of unnatural causes and he was introduced to the hunting world. He was still distraught over his wife’s death and the thought of killing monsters was the only thing that brought him comfort. He needed to avenge her death somehow. 

Once the car seat was connected to the chair, he lifted his toddler up and put him in the seat. Dean came out from the bathroom into the small motel room. He climbed over the two squeezed together beds, and sat at the tiny round table. 

“Hey Deano, sit down, it’s dinner time.”

Dean made a face, but sat down anyway. He watched as his dad walked over to the mini-microwave and pulled out a frozen dinner. Slowly, John pulled off the plastic sheet over the small container, then threw it away. He brought the tray of thawed out food over to Dean and placed it in front of him. 

John almost always made Frozen dinners or Mac and cheese. Sometimes he made nothing more than peas, chicken broth that had been heated and reheated for days, and stale bread, slightly wet from the market because it was brought at a cheaper cost due to the sloppy quality. Still, Dean behaved well, never had any complaints about the food. He happily consumed it even if it tasted rough and unpleasant against his throat.

He ate his food without complaint almost always. ‘Almost’ being the key word. Today, wasn’t like any other day. Today, Dean didn’t want to eat reheated pork chops from a box. It tasted like chewing on a rubber ball and he didn’t want to eat it. He does not like the mushy side of apples or the brownie that looked good but was actually covered in a taste bud-destroying ketchup-vinegar substance that seems like it was made by the Devil himself. Dean hated eating garbage every night. Honestly, he was sick of it. When his mom was around, Dean never had to eat bad tasting food. 

“Why is everything green.” Dean grumbled, picking up a fork and pushing the meat around on his green tray. 

John shrugged. Kicking back his own chair, he plopped down, between his two sons. 

“They went a little overkill with the green paint in here, didn’t they?” John said. He was referring to the stark green wall paper. Even the two queen-sized beds had green flowered quilts. 

“Daddy, the curtains are puke-your-guts-out green.” Dean said with a whole lot of attitude. 

John merely chuckled. The curtains did look ugly as crap. Taking a swig of beer, John let out a relaxed sigh. They had just bought this motel room after a long drive from Kansas. John was thankful to be out of that state. Too many memories of Mary surrounded him when he was in Kansas. For the sake of his boys, John couldn’t keep dwelling on those memories any longer. He had to buck up, be a man, and raise his two kids. So if that meant getting the hell out of Kansas, (and it did) then John did what he had to do. 

Sammy reached his little hand out towards John babbling incoherently. “Abbabaa” 

“What is it, little buddy? What do you want?” John cooed. He reached over and wiped Sammy’s dirty face with a napkin. The baby babbled again. 

“Do you want your bottle?” John asked, knowing that’s what his son was reaching towards. 

Sammy squealed with glee as his daddy handed him the bottle. “Bbaabaa” 

After John was certain Sam was taken care of, he watched Dean poke at his food for a minute. “What’s the matter? Why aren’t you eating?” 

Dean shrugged. He leaned on his elbow, scrunching his nose at the disgusting food. “Don’t wanna.”

John raised his right eyebrow. “Excuse me? What was that?”

“I don’t wanna eat.” Dean whined. “It’s gross!” 

“It’s dinner.” John said sternly, “and it’s all we have.” 

“Then I won’t eat.” Dean said, defiantly. 

“You need to eat, Dean, you’re a growing boy.” 

“I’m all big now, I don’t need to eat so much.”

“You’re five.” John shot back, “and I work my ass off, fixing cars, to make sure you have enough to eat. So eat.”

“No.” Dean yelled. 

John was physically taken aback. Dean has never outright disobeyed him before. 

“Dean Winchester. You eat your food or you’re going in time-out.”

“Fine! I’d rather go in time out. This stuff tastes bad, Daddy!” 

John was at a loss of what to do. Obviously being harsh with Dean wasn’t working very well. Maybe he should try to bribe the kid to eat. He originally thought about using the threat his father used on him when he was really young which was going to bed without supper. But John knew he couldn’t send Dean to bed without dinner, because the kid doesn’t eat anything else other than dinner. John takes him out for breakfast once a week because that’s all he can afford. Every other day, Dean goes without breakfast and lunch. The only meal he ever gets is dinner. 

“Deano, you need to eat. It’s not healthy to skip meals and you already skip two meals a day. Which Daddy is working really hard on finding a way to fix that, but for now all we have to eat is dinner. So I need you to be my good little solider and eat, ok?”

“No.” Dean said again. 

John was on his feet. Once he was in front of Dean, he crouched down and put the fork next to Dean’s lips. “Come on, champ. Open up.”

Dean shook his head, batting his father’s hands away. When John forced the fork up against his lips, Dean slapped his tray as hard as he could, sending the food flying off the table. It landed on the floor with a big splat. 

John gasped, staring at the mess on the floor, then back at his audacious son. Having dealt with disciplinary infractions in the marines, John acted on instinct. 

He stood up, taking Dean by the arm and yanking him up too. His son was now standing on the chair. Before Dean could ask what was happening, John spun him around and slammed a hand across the seat of his pants. 

Dean’s whole body flinched. Blinking, his mind took a few seconds to process what had just happened. Suddenly, the pain in his rear registered and Dean’s lower lip wobbled. 

John spun his son back around. He held Dean’s chin and looked him in the eye. Big scared eyes stared back. 

“What You did was unacceptable. Do you understand me?” Dean nodded fiercely, completely terrified. “If I tell you to eat something, you eat it. I don’t want to ever hear you say ‘no’ to me again. And you don’t go throwing tantrums just because you can’t get your way? What are you, five?” 

Dean’s whole body trembled but he muttered a soft, “Yes” 

“What?” John shouted. Dude to the loud thunderous voice, Sam was screaming just as loud. His whole face was red, as he kicked his legs against the table. 

“I am five,” Dean said quietly. John suddenly realized what he had said. He sighed heavily. The anger drained from his body. Now, he was left with a difficult decision to make. Dean was only five-years-old and he just threw his first real tantrum since Mary’s death. Honestly, it was a miracle Dean lasted this long. Still, he couldn’t let his son get away with misbehaving like that. As a father, John knew his job was to teach his son’s right from wrong. Even if it was going to kill him to do it. 

“You need to learn not to disrespect me.” John said, lifting Dean up from the chair. He placed his son on the ground while sitting himself in the chair. 

He stood Dean between his legs, unbuttoned Dean’s loose blue jeans, making the five-year-old crinkle his forehead. 

"What are you doing?" He asked with a single tear rolling down his face. Daddy was still mad. 

"Dean, You brought this on yourself. Saying no to me and throwing a tantrum will earn you a spanking.”

John cringed as he said it. He honestly wanted to cry along with his baby, but he had to be the big bad Dad. He had to teach Dean how to behave. It could be very important for his boy to follow orders in the future. Hell, following orders could save his life while hunting. It could save Sammy’s life. On the other hand, disobeying orders could get both Dean or Sam killed. John shuttered at the thought. He needed to be able to count on Dean. 

Dean stomps his foot as John pulled off his jeans leaving him clad in only underwear.

"You’re going over my lap," John said while grabbing Dean’s arms and pulling him over his knee. He latched his fingers onto the waist band of Dean’s underwear and pulled them down below his pale bum. 

Dean whimpers out as the cold air rushed over the exposed part of his body and his cheeks turn red.

John sighed. He rubbed Dean’s back for a while, trying to calm himself more than Dean. He removed his hand from Dean’s back and brought it down hard against the skin, the sound echoing throughout the room. Dean cried out in surprise.

John, wasted no time applying a dozen quick, sharp, spanks to the center of Dean’s bottom. The second time John’s hand connected with the trembling backside in front of him, Dean was in hysterics. He cried like he was being murdered, but in Dean’s defense, nothing in his short life had ever hurt him like this. His Daddy was the first person to inflict such horrible pain on him. And Dean didn’t like it one bit. 

 

“Ow! You’re mean.” Dean informed. “Stop. You’re hurting me.” John knew. John knew all too well how badly it hurt and how mean he was being. 

 

“I know.” He said, not pausing for a second. Dean hiccuped now, much more subdued than earlier. His Dad wasn’t going to stop so he might as well try to brace himself. Dean’s once creamy flesh was now now dark red decorated with John’s huge hand prints.

 

Eventually, Dean’s crying turned into deep sobs. Nothing torn John up inside more than seeing Dean like this because of him, but he knew it was what Dean needed. Dean needed discipline, it was the only thing that could keep him on the straight and narrow. It was John’s job to make sure his son grew up right. 

In a quick motion, John landed two harsh spanks against Dean’s thighs, making the small boy scream out loud. 

"Almost done buddy.” John whispered. 

At this point Dean went completely limp, he felt so bad, like he had disappointed his dad, and he hated that feeling. Even though he wasn't supposed to suck on his thumb, it was resting in his mouth, slightly wrinkled from being in there for so long.

John tilted Dean forward a bit, giving him better access to Dean’s sit spots, this made the sting amplify and his child cry harder. The ex-marine landed those spanks quickly, wanting to get it over with. 

As soon as the last swat landed, John scooped Dean up into his arms, setting him on his lap carefully, being cautious of his freshly spanked bum. Dean cried into his Daddy’s chest. His whole body was rigid against John’s. It wasn’t a lot. John had only given him fifteen or so, but it was enough to make an impact, that’s for sure. 

"Shh," John whispered while rubbing Dean’s back gently, "You're okay." 

Dean’s crying showed no signs of slowing down even as John rocked him back and forth. The child was squirming away, trying to avoid the comforting embrace and John was worried. 

“Shhh, Deano.” John said. He ran his hand carefully over Dean’s bottom, trying to soothe the scorched skin. He felt the heat radiating from the tender area, indicating that the skin was inflamed and sore, like a nasty sunburn. John kissed Dean’s temple, shushing his softly. After five minutes of the tears not ceasing, John was concerned. 

“Dean. Talk to me. Why are you still upset?” John asked kissing the tears away on his son’s freckled cheek. 

Dean remained silent, other than the loud sniffles. He opened his mouth to speak but all that came out was shuttered breathing. “You hate me.” Dean choked out. More tears leaked from his eyes and John clutches him tighter. 

He shook his head back and forth, heart hurting at his son’s words. “No, Dean. Not at all. I could never hate you.”

“I’m bad.”

“No.” John wanted to kill himself. “You’re not bad. You’re good. My good little solider” John kissed Dean’s face again. 

“Then why’d you do that?” Dean whined accusingly. His truly confused eyes scrutinizing John’s apologetic face. 

“Well, you didn’t listen to me. You said no and you threw your food on the floor.”

Dean dropped his gaze to his hands, “yeah, I was bad.” 

“Well...um...” John was struggling with an explanation. “Not bad, Dean. Just disobedient. But I know you won’t do that again, right?” 

“I just want to go to bed.” Dean mumbled, his voice so raspy and broken. 

“Dean -“

“Please. I just want to sleep.” Dean said again, green eyes pleading. 

John hesitantly agreed. He placed Dean on the ground and the boy dashed across the small room to his bed farthest away from the round table. 

John watched sadly, as Dean hid under the covers. He listened to the crying pick-up as he slowly picked up the dishes. Placing the dishes in the sink, John turned his attention back to Sammy who was still wailing at the top of his lungs. Once John picked him up, Sam started squirming in his arms just like Dean did. 

“Awwaaa! Aggaa.” Sam said reaching his chubby hand out towards the blankets where Dean was hiding. 

“You didn’t like that either, did you Sammy?” John asked into his baby’s short, chestnut hair. He listened to Sam babble some more and nodded. “I know. You don’t understand. Part of me wonders if you know your big brother’s hurt.”  Of course, Sam was oblivious to what John was saying. He was now distracted with grabbing the collar of John’s flannel shirt. When the baby started chewing on his shirt, John got up and carried Sam to Dean. 

He pulled the covers down and plopped Sam right next to his eldest. The baby squealed with joy at the sight of his big brother. He clapped his hands and pulled at Dean’s hair. 

“Agggagga.” Sam said leaning down and kissing Dean’s face. John’s heart swelled with pride. He apprehensively watched Dean sit up. The child winced slightly at the pressure applied to his bottom, but the pained expression was replaced with a happy one when he saw Sam. 

With smile on his face, Dean reached over and tickled Sammy’s belly, laughing when the baby laughed. 

“Are you okay now, ace?” John asked. 

Dean nodded, but said nothing. He didn’t even bother to look at his father. A white-hot terror flooded through John’s veins. What if Dean stopped talking again like he did after Mary died. It nearly took eight months to get the kid to speak. He couldn’t go through that again. 

“Dean, talk to me.” It wasn’t a request. It was an order. His five-year-old sat up straight, looked him dead in the eye and gave the most respectful answer in the world. 

“Yes sir.” 

It was the first time Dean has ever called John something other than ‘Daddy.’ 

“Are you angry?” John asked, noticing the serious look on his son’s face. It’s something he’s never seen Dean do before. 

Dean shook his head. Eyes watering as his father approached. It amazed John how wide a child’s eyes could get. Sammy was a master at this already and he was still a baby. John was in big trouble when that kid grew up. But Dean, he didn’t usually do the whole puppy-dog-eyes trick until now. Damn it hurt like hell to see those eyes in so much pain. 

“You need to eat, Dean.” 

“Yes sir.” Dean whispered, as a few fresh tears dribbled down his cheeks. 

John decided in that moment that Dean was never allowed to give him those puppy-eyes again because his chest ached so badly, John thought he was having a heart attack. He brought the food to Dean and he was happy when his toddler ate it all. John spent the rest of the evening lying next to both boys and watching them fall asleep while the motel TV sang in the background. This day was not a win for any of them. No, today John failed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, to every single reader thank you so much! And if you’ve ever commented on my stories, I love you.
> 
> Also shout out to Mika for commenting on a lot of my stories in this series! (You rock)
> 
> You too CastorLycan! You comment on a lot of my stories and make me so happy.


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